LADY VIOLET





I

THOSE RUSSIAN VIOLETS


There had been a brilliant reception at the house of Mrs. Adrian Colburn
in honor of her guest--a most attractive young woman--from the East. The
hours were brief, from five to seven. I had gone late and left early, but
while there had made an engagement with Miss Caddington for the large ball
to be given that night by the Boltons.

Miss Caddington was a _debutante_. She had been educated abroad, but had
not lost either love of country or naturalness of manner. During the short
but fiercely gay season from October to Christmas she had made many
friends, and found that two or three lovers were hard to handle with much
credit to herself or any real happiness to them.

She was not painfully conscientious, nor was she an intentional trifler;
therefore she was good at that social game of lead on and hold off.

"Call at nine," she said, "and I will be ready."

But she was not ready at nine. The room where I waited was most inviting.
There were several low couches laden with slumber-robes and soft, downy